


Allure

by Iced_Coffee



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Balance Arc, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Loathing, Taako Blames Himself, blame, here there be gerblins, phoenix fire gauntlet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iced_Coffee/pseuds/Iced_Coffee
Summary: Taako is so cold, and tired of waiting.(In which Taako puts on The Gauntlet, and has to deal with what comes next.)-(Currently being re-written, Old Chapters have been deleted. They will be replaced in due time.)





	Allure

Taako was cold. 

 

The ice water had long seeped through his clothes burrowing underneath his skin, the uncomfortable dampness chafing awkwardly with each movement he made. The continued reminder of his frozen skin grated on his nerves, his chattering teeth echoing in the quiet well. He was squished, stuck between an unconscious orc, and a burly human, their combined warmth a distant echo of a fire he only felt from the distance. From their leap, Taako felt bruises etched into his skin, hiding just underneath the bluish tint of his skin. The sky above them erupted in flames shortly after they reached the bottom, ash dusting their faces as the world burned above them. The smoky breeze sending Taako into hacking coughing fits as his body shook from the cold. And then it was over. The sky turned from brilliant yellows and reds, into a deeply uneasy blue, streaked with painted violet, the sky darkening to a memory of a clear blue sky.

 

They weren’t sure what awaited them on the surface, but they had an idea. A flash of a man burnt into the ground, flames long since gone, clutching a gauntlet high above his head. The smell of dust and ash, a perfect oval of polished obsidian underneath, the sound of heels clicking on tiles. The stupid act sending burning flesh into the air, Magnus’s burnt hand. Gundren’s father had gotten just what he wanted, what he deserved. His family legacy, immortalized in a statue surrounded in hauntingly empty black glass, tucked away in a hidden echoing cave. Taako closed his eyes as Magnus and Merle bickered, unease building within him as he struggled with the cold. He wished for a moment, a long terrible moment for the fire to return, if only for a second. 

 

The cobblestone walls of the well were surprisingly easy to climb, for Magnus at least. He found  handholds invisible to them below, all with a rope clutched in his hand. Taako had tried to get out first, clutching the edges of rocks and stones, shaking as he tried to pull himself up, and away from the frigid water, all while Merle and Magnus decided what to do next. Taako was sick and tired of waiting for them to do something, stuck in a state of frozen toes and numbing cold. He ended up having to wait anyway, as his hands slipped and he tumbled the short distance, caught effortlessly by Magnus. 

 

He gave a soft smile, setting Taako down gently. “I’ll go first, I can pull everyone up.”

 

Taako was the second out, and as soon as he collapsed over the edge of the well, he almost slipped back into the freezing depths before Magnus gripped his arms and hauled him to his feet. The wind was far worse here; pulling and pushing with enough force to topple him over onto the harsh ground without Magnus there to steady him. His damp hair whipped around, hitting him in the face with each twist and turn the wind took it on, a chilling reminder of the sorry state he was in. His cloak, formerly thick and warm, now soaking wet, doing nothing to warm him. It only pulled him down with its weight; he could barely lift it in its current state, let alone use it to block out the wind, and the damp fabric itched horribly against his skin. Despite the steadying presence at his side, holding him up, Taako lowered himself down and curled up on the smooth plane, staring blankly ahead at the burnt sky, all while Magnus hoisted the others up. 

 

All he could feel was the cold wind biting his skin, the stiffness in his fingers as he struggled to unfasten his cloak. He didn’t dare to take more than a glance at himself and his companions, the weight of guilt heavy on his mind. He refused to allow himself to think, to understand the devastation that he helped, that he created. He pushed it all aside, forcing his hands to dig through his bags, keeping himself busy with tasks that needed to be done. There would be time to mourn later. 

 

When Taako finally raised his head enough to catch sight of his surroundings beyond the glass under his feet. He froze, forgetting to breathe, forgetting the numbness creeping up his limbs: caught in between a denial and a horrible truth.

 

The expanse around them had turned into a beautifully morbid art piece. The darkening sky above them reflecting on the glazed surface, a disturbing silhouette reaching towards the sky, with static swimming in the corner of every thought. Everything around them was deeply wrong. It was as if the world had suddenly shifted, leaving an eerie distortion in place of reality, mirrored in the worst kind of way. Taako felt it crushing him, lost in the pseudo fire cast by the setting sun upon the sheet of glass, but there was no fire here, not anymore. Just the cold settling into his bones, and weight of thousands dead on his thoughts. The guilty thought of what should have happened, a reminder with each tap of their shoes on the dark glaze. There was nothing left for them to mourn, nothing left to be selfishly wanting over, no person in the distance they could salvage, someone they could help, just to make this all-encompassing guilt lighten a fraction of a fraction. But there was nothing. Only black glass, and the truth of what they,  _ what he _ , should have stopped. 

 

Even as Killian was pulled on solid ground, there was nothing to do but wait. 

 

Taako tried to light a small fire, a simple spell; one of the first he had ever learned, but the second the flame flickered into being, it quickly shrank and extinguished entirely in a matter of seconds. His reserves had been sapped, and the ground beneath them did little to help, the cursed marble eating away at every spark of magic that came near it. There was no brush or twigs for it to catch, and shortly after the first attempts, Taako gave up entirely. Prestidigitation was easy, literal children practiced that spell, keeping a fire going shouldn’t send him toppling over gasping for breath, frost in each exhale. He shook aside Merle’s concern, and took to pacing to relieve the cold flowing through his veins, and calm the frustration bubbling up from within him, but it didn’t help much. He couldn’t even keep a candle flame alight, the simplest spell imaginable; how pathetic. His magic had left him, and with each breath he felt the ice clinging to him, a painful reminder of just how pointless he had become. 

 

Guilt clawed into Taako, only multiplying as time went on, consuming him up as he paced under the moon’s faint glow. He knew it was their fault, his fault. They escorted Him to the vault, they protected Him, they gave Him the glove. They made too many mistakes to be an accident. Taako refused to rest, to sleep, to eat. He wasn’t worthy of comfort from Magnus, or the warmth of a crackling fire, of comradeship. He ached, hands clenched tightly into fists, tucked into himself. People had died, a city erased from the map, all while they waited. Waited for everyone to die, all while they ran. Nothing more than cowards.

 

Disgust bubbled up in his throat, the only warmth he allowed himself to indulge in. That of hatred and anger. It was his fault. He could have stopped this, They could have stopped this. Taako knew not to dwell on coulds, and should haves, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about what he ought to do. All he knew was the guilt in his throat, the ever encompassing cold, and the bittersweet heat of rage. 

 

The stone beneath his feet did not wear in his anguished pacing. It was calm, steady, emotionless. The footsteps clicking on the hard glass, while he lost himself. The repetitive sound building the chorus of thoughts, signing himself away to the threat of action. He needed to move, to do something. It clawed up from deep within him, grating on each and every nerve, but he couldn’t stop pacing. He needed to do something.

 

In his thoughts, he did nothing but let the frustration build, stepping to and fro, on and on. He soon found himself in front of the statue, staring into the eyes of the man who was consumed by flame. He was frozen in time, the blackened grin of achievement mirrored in the reflection under his feet. The figure, he could hardly be called a dwarf at this point, had his hand outstretched. Reaching for something far above him, purpose in each bit of charred skin, crumbling to dust in the unforgiving wind. In his birthright, a small flame flickered, reigniting as the wind blew it out. Flickering back into existence in a moments notice, taunting Taako with its everlasting flame. They all swore not to touch it until Killian woke up, but Taako’s hand reached out unwavering.

 

The glove held powers none of them understood, it was an artifact of a time long since passed. The only person who could give them any information, Killian, was unmoving in her slumber. It had been trapped in a cave for decades, consuming those who held it in a whirlwind of emotion and flame. Taako knew it burned hotter than the sun, but he couldn’t help wanting the unbearable heat in the cold. If anyone should take hold of the gauntlet, it was him. He deserved to feel the searing heat on his palm, to be reminded of his actions with each accidental brush of red-hot skin. He failed his companions, he failed Phandalin, and he failed himself. He deserved this burden.

 

His hand grazed the leather cuffs, feet raised on toes, a hand balanced on the body’s shoulder. It was hot to the touch, unpleasantly warm, but it did not burn him the way it had before. HIs hand pulled the top of the glove, gently easing it off of the raised hand, feeling nothing but the warmth of the metal, even as the figure under his hands began to crumble away. It hummed gently, reminding him Magnus’s bright red palm from hours earlier: a simpler time, of impulsivity. But Taako was not one to rush in, not in times of calm, or in battle. He had waited long enough. 

 

It shivered under his tough, a gentle murmur echoing into his mind as it pressed into his hand. The warmth creeping up his sleeve, caressing his skin with promises of comfort, of power, of heat. Taako, swamped in the cold air encircling him, he felt the gauntlet consuming him. And he welcomed it with open arms, he had no need for power, but he bathed in the heat. The only comfort he would allow himself to have, to be enveloped in nothing but sweltering heat. He was pulled down, dragged into a tunnel of blazing lava, burning him from deep within his bones. 

 

And it Hurt. 

 

The cold that had creeped into his lungs was expelled in a breath of steam. The fire building within his hand spreading through his veins in a hellish torment that erupted into his chest. A feverish chill of too hot burning out from deep within him, chasing off the freezing cold until only vapor remained. Caught in a whirlwind of nauseating rushes of heat and chill. His bones ached, as if he had held the sky above his head for hundreds of thousands of years, twitching and shaking in paralyzing agony. He never wanted to hurt anyone, he just desperately wanted to do  _ something _ . He needed to fix this, but the Gauntlet didn’t care.

 

It demanded to be used. 

 

Taako was so, so tired of waiting. He just wanted to embrace the heat, to give in to the urge of action. To relax and selfishly drown himself in the sweat of nothingness. The heat was undeniably familiar, in a way that spoke of an old friend come to greet him at the final door. It spoke of crackling fireplaces, and freshly-baked cookies, tempting him with the promise of a final home. He was so tired of sitting by and falling into the cold numbness that was necessary to live. He just wanted to be welcomed into a final everlasting embrace. But, he couldn’t. He couldn’t fail again.

 

The conflicted sensations swirling with misplaced interruptions of unwanted thoughts. He wouldn’t dare use the power of the Gauntlet, but It wanted, and It was unrelenting. He would rather be consumed by it, than take another in its fiery blaze. A cool rush of headspace greeted him as he fell to his knees, cradling the Gauntlet to his chest. He knew it needed to be destroyed, but he couldn’t. It was far beyond the skill of a low level wizard, especially a useless one. He was nothing but the fire burning through him, and the press of obsidian against his knees. He had trapped himself in an impossible situation, branded himself yet again as a failure, and a coward.

 

What has he done?

 

Taako no longer cared about the freezing cold breeze that once smothered him, or the restless anxiety fluttering through his bones. He wanted it off. Far away from him, lost forever in an impossible place. He would take years without the hint of sunlight, rather than face this cruel heat twisting his mind to its will. But he didn’t dare take it off. It would surely tempt them as it did him. He needed to protect them, to do something in this impossible nightmare. The Gauntlet had already taken too many, too many gone in an instant of horrible obliteration. It wouldn’t hurt them, he wouldn’t let it. Collapsing entirely against the icy ground, he took in shallow gasping breaths, forehead push against the cool surface. The heat evaporating each sobbing breath he took in, tears dripping in uncontrolled heaves. 

 

“Taako?”

 

They couldn’t help him. They would be consumed as he was, lost in the fiery vortex of temptation. He didn’t dare look at them, too caught in his own guilt of fault. He deserved this. He would stop this from ever happening again. Taako readied himself, crushing his arms around his ribs, forcing the jagged edges deep within him to fit into the mold of something useful. He would abandon himself to prevent another Phandalin. Taako cast a hand outwards, towards the voices echoing across the clearing, clutching the other, The Gauntlet, to his chest. He didn’t want to hurt them, but if they tried to stop him…. He had no choice.


End file.
